


you be my queen and i'll be your moat

by sultrygoblin



Category: Inglourious Basterds (2009)
Genre: Chivalry, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Feelings Realization, Fluff, POV Third Person, donny is an ass, dumb girl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:22:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23540767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sultrygoblin/pseuds/sultrygoblin
Summary: one shot - request - it’s okay to be weak. as long as it’s with the right person.
Relationships: Wilhelm Wicki/Original Female Character(s), Wilhelm Wicki/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	you be my queen and i'll be your moat

**Author's Note:**

> i could have kept writing these two for hours, dear lord. they just don’t stop. there’s so much here. let me know if you want to see them again. actually more edited than normally.  
> "Hello, I love your writing for the basterds!! Is it possible to write something for wicki and a girl he's protective of on the team? Sorry if it's a weird request... thank you!! :)" - anon

You’d gone your whole life not needing a man’s help and turned out just fine. You and your mother didn’t need your dad, your mother hadn’t needed another man, and as you’d gotten older, well, you’d felt like you didn’t need one to start with. It’s why 1st Lieutenant Raine had recruited you, wasn’t it? You didn’t get distracted with the men around you, in fact you seemed almost giddy to prove how much better than them you could be. No sir, you never needed any man. You should’ve been the one laid up battered and bruised, you’re the one who’d opened your mouth in that tiny little bar in the middle of fuck-all nowhere Europe. That man was all too happy to hit a girl, and you wanted him too. In fact, you had dared him to, multiple times. The other guys had asked Aldo if they should step in, and every time you shrugged and kept drinking his whiskey.

Then Wicki stepped in, which you both hated and appreciated. The punch stealing the wind even from him, you’d probably have few cracked ribs to show for the adventure if he hadn’t. But you are not going to go upstairs and thank him, you are going to sit at the bar and nurse your drink. You didn’t need a man to fight your battles; you were more than capable. And regardless of what you found yourself thinking as you began to fall asleep that night, it had not felt good and he did not look especially dashing through the ordeal.

***  
It wasn’t easy to stay mad at Wicki, he’d smoothed it over, spitting out the same shit about cracked ribs that had popped into your brain. You shook on it and just like that, everything was back to normal. For 4 more days. It would have behooved your to cut your hair like Stiglitz kept suggesting before they’d walked into that firefight. You wished you had, if only because it would’ve stopped Wicki from being able to save your ass a second time. If he’d given you another minute, you would’ve been fine and gotten a stylish home hair cut in the same sweep. That Nazi had a tight grip on your hair, knife poised, and then he dropped. Even before you turned somehow you knew, you knew, it was Wicki.

“Such beautiful hair, Liebling,” had been his retort, smirk planted right on his stupid, pouty lips, before he hurried off to help round up survivors for interrogation and scalpings galore.

“I had it!” you called after him but it didn’t matter, he was already gone.

You growled, kicking the ground and angrily tugging on the locks that had been in grubby Nazi hands just a minute ago. It’s not enough, looking down at the lifeless body you slam your boot down on its face. Grumbling your whole way back to ‘the stage’, as they had begun to call it. Ultvich falls in line next to you not too far down the path. You’d never managed such a dirty look in your life but he simply powered through it, a man raised by women. Glancing over at you a few times before clearing his throat and finally speaking up.

“It’s not ‘cause you can’t take care of yourself,” you snorted, keeping your eyes fixed on your now bloody boots, “We all know you don’t have a problem with that.”

“Then what is it?” you can’t help snapping, he’d made himself a target the second he decided to talk to you.

He sighed, “Just don’t take it personally, alright? It’s not like that,” hurrying forward to catch up with the other men.

Then what was it like?

***  
You and Donowitz have been drinking far too much this evening. But it isn’t often they get warm beds for the night that come with no plans to move out the next. It was easy for everyone to get a little out of control. The problem arose when you came to the sudden realization that you had been keeping up with The Bear Jew, you could drink like a man but there was a point where you had to accept you wouldn’t be able to drink Donowitz under the table. You’d just admitted that, climbing to your feet, a bed would be the best choice now, watching the lights start to dance around your head.

He grabbed your wrist, Donowitz hasn’t ever grabbed you before, not like that, forcing your back into your seat, “Come on, doll, one more,” refilling the shot glasses.

The mood was soured, you shook your head, “I wanna go to bed, Donowitz,” there was a twinkle in his eye, the kind that smart men get when alcohol makes them dumb, “Not like that.”

“Well why not?” he seems put out, like this isn’t the first time it’s gone through his mind and you suddenly felt gross, “I’m sure I’m better than any of these other guys.”

“I’m not arguing how attractive you are, Donowitz,” you laughed, hoping the joke would loosen his grip slightly, “We both know that’s not the issue.”

“Then what is the issue?” he spat, he’d pay for this, for a long time, whether he remembered it or not.

“Donowitz,” Wicki appears out of the shadows like some guardian angel, “The lady would like to go to bed,” suddenly finding your wrist free you yanked it into your chest, “Come on, Liebling, let’s get you upstairs.”

“I’m fine!” you were quick to shout, making your way to your feet and forward. With three powerful steps. And then your legs buckled. You couldn’t ask for help. You wouldn’t ask.

But it doesn’t matter, Wicki’s at your side, wrapping his arm around your waist, “Why-” he furrows his brows, “Never mind.”

You can’t focus, well you can, but it’s on how strong his grip around you is, “Never mind?” barely catching the word, hoping it might distract you from his damnable arms, “What never mind?”

He shook his head, “Get comfortable,” he says instead, lowering yourself onto the bed.

It doesn’t take long, you’re already passed out and lightly snoring when he pulls off your shoes. Face red from alcohol, he wants to stay, but he doesn’t. He’s already overplayed his hand for the evening.

***  
Donowitz’s got the guiltiest look on his face when you come down for breakfast, wasting no time in apologizing. You insult him, as he’s well earned, and makes him get your everything but other than that all was forgiven. There wasn’t room to hold a grudge, especially for drunken assholery that had no real intent behind it. Slowly the rest of the men make their way down and he’s run off to talk with Wicki, probably apologizing to him for last night as well.

In all fairness, you knew you should thank him. You had needed someone last night, just like you had every time he’d stepped in. It wasn’t often out here you thought of your mother, all alone back home, but right now you couldn’t get yourself out. Reminding yourself that part of being strong was knowing you can’t always be. That there was nothing wrong with a man helping you, as long as he did it for the right reasons. All the bullshit you thought you were supposed to say because that’s what mothers said to their daughter’s isn’t it? Just more lip service. Except it hadn’t been. Your mom hadn’t been as naïve as you had, thinking you could just ship off with a group of men and not expect something to happen. Whatever ‘something’ was, your mother had been trying to make that very clear before you set off and your ears had been too full of cotton to actually listen.

“Oh shit,” you whispered to yourself, watching the two men glance over at you from across the room and then back to each other, “Really?” they finally stepped apart and you felt yourself shrinking into the corner.

Maybe you could disappear or you’d fall so low he thought you’d left or maybe just forget you had even been there entirely. Unfortunately, they lived in the real world. He sat down on the bench across from your, brows knitted with concern.

“You feel alright?” cocking his head to the side, looking just so damn concerned.

It was like something came loose around your heart, a rumble of something more to come, you groaned, “At least we have the day and some evening to recuperate.”

He nodded, “You and Donowitz?”

“We talked, he’s an ass but I think we both learned a valuable lesson,” clearing your throat and sitting up straight, “Thanks by the way,” he looked shocked, legitimately shocked that you were thanking him, “You’ve just been trying to help and I’ve been, well, a big ol’ bitch.”

“No,” he shook his head, eyes turned towards the rest of their little ragtag team scattered around the room, “No you haven’t,” turning his gaze back to you, it was soft. A strange sort of soft you’re sure no man has ever directed at you, “I want to talk. In private.”

“Al-alright,” you struggled out, nodding, “We can go upstairs I guess. I’m sure Stiglitz is still in your room, but mine’s empty.”

There’s a strange sort of tension as they follow the same path from last night. Except they’re both awake and in control of their senses. You sit rigidly at the edge of the bed and he takes a seat across the room from you. It’s the first time you’ve ever been hyper-aware of being alone with a man who wasn’t a doctor or something like that. There’s a way he’s looking at you and whether you like it or not, you do like it. You’ve got those butterflies in your stomach you always used to sneer at. And you’re starting to understand why it was so important for Ulvich to say what he said that day.

“I,” he starts and then stops, as if he’s rethinking the wording, “I like it,” it should be nonsense but it makes perfect sense, “I know you hate it but I can’t help it.”

You took a deep breath and then another, letting your body relax as you tried to formulate exactly what you were trying to say. It was like your brain had turned to mush and all that existed were these little pockets that featured him. There’s the beginning realization that if it had been anyone else, you might not have been as annoyed, you might not have felt a continuous need to prove you didn’t need anyone’s help. Especially his. It makes you think back to 2nd grade when boys used to pulls girls pigtails because they liked them but didn’t know how to say it. Was this your pigtail yanking?

“It’s easier, you know?” his eyes lock with yours, it’s the first time you’ve opened up to anyone who wasn’t your mother about anything, “If you take care of yourself, you don’t need someone to help you. And if no one’s there to help, well, then no one can leave, right?” But if you wanted what you were starting to realize you did, there had to be a first step, “I don’t-” you stopped, cleared your throat, and tried again, “I haven’t-” you’re not quite sure what you are trying to say, you just knows it won’t come out.

“They’d have to kill me first,” it’s not a coherent answer to any question you asked, but it’s just the right thing to say, “Nothing’s changing, Liebling, we’re here to do what needs to be done. But,” he moves forward out of the chair, taking a knee in front of you, and placing his palms flat just above your knees, “Just let me, that’s all I want from you.”

No one’s ever touched you like that. Not because they have to, but just because they want to. It’s like fire leaking through the fabric of your trousers but you don’t want them to move, it feels good. It had felt good when he’d defended your honor in that bar fight, it had felt amazing when he’d called your hair beautiful, and after this moment, when you think back to last night, there was something titillating about the momentary standoff between him and Donowtiz. All of which you’d chosen to ignore in the name of pride and some false sense that a ‘real’ woman didn’t need anyone to take care of them. There was the rumble, and whatever stone had been there seemed to turn to ash.

“Just you,” was your answer, placing a shaking hand over one of his, “I have a carefully crafted reputation.”

He lifted his eyebrows, amused smile on his face, “I’m very interested to see what lies underneath it.”


End file.
